Maybe it's the pain meds, or maybe it's the odd sleep patterns of convalescence, but I'm feeling philosophical about knitting. Why don't I care about making it perfect? This led me to think . . .
Why do I knit? Why has it become so large a part of my life? Why do mistakes drive me crazy in some things, and in other projects I let them be?
Well, first of all, why do I knit?
I love:
- creating (same reason I love to bake)
- being part of something beautiful
- the feel of the fibers in my hand
- being artistic, but ending up with something practical (usually)
- making one-of-a-kind gifts for people I love
- donating hand-made things to good causes
- keeping my hands busy (it helps keep me from being distracted by other things)
- doing something quiet that helps me think
- having a project that helps me not feel obligated to maintain eye-contact with whoever I'm with
- having an excuse to get together with knitting friends
- feeling cool because I'm making cool stuff
- Is this project for me, for an unknown person, or a gift for someone specific?
- If it's for someone else, who, what kind of person are they (perfectionism-wise)?
- Is this a project where every stitch counts (pun intended) or not?
- How important is it that I follow the pattern to make it look decent?
Confession time:
I did not tink today. The scarf I'm making is an extreme modification of a loose design that will not show the mistake as horrible or disabling (in terms of wear-ability), and frankly, I doubt most people seeing it would even notice. I will keep on with my nearly-mindless knitting, engage my mind enough to compensate for the error, and complete my scarf.
And, heck, aren't you glad I finally found something to post about other than my damn leg?
Thanks for sharing why you love to knit and why you do it. Always interesting to know how someone got into something. I tinkered with knitting a few years ago and really want to pick it up again. Seems like a perfect thing for you to be working on now too!
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